Theft, assault, renewal
by WhiteTigerRei
Summary: the title has almost nothing to do with the story. It's about an event that happens outside the Sleeping Shadows Karaoke Club, and is a oneshot, okay? no reviews telling me to write more.the rating is to be on the safe side, with blood and violence in it.


Hey, authors notes.. yeah... ummm... I wrote this story for and Australian story-writing competition, so if you like it, review and tell me. If you don't like it, tell me why and I'll try to fix it... yeah. Any way. Just for fun, I've kidnapped a bunch of YuGiOh charaters, plus my muses, for no particular reason...

Yami Bakura: Kidnapped, you make bashing us on te head sound nice...

Yami Marik: She's lucky we're her muses...

Malik: Well, I for one don't care.

Ooookay... here for the disclaimer is Thiefking Bakura!

Yami Bakura: Wait, this is confusing...

Thiefking Bakura: Yeah... umm... what's the disclaimer?

Ryou: If you haven't figured it out yet, Korose does NOT own YuGiOh. or else my yami would win once in a while...

Yami Bakura: Shut up, omote!

Yeah, don't own, don't care... I can write fics, so YIPPIE!

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"Welcome to the Sleeping Shadows Karaoke Contest!" shouted a raven-haired girl from the stage. "We're holding a contest for the best and loudest, first prize is $100! Any takers?"

She waved the microphone above her head, while two boys watched. Malik Ishtar, a platinum-blonde Egyptian, and Bakura Ryou, a pale teen with white hair and a British accent. When the hostess calmed down, Malik jumped to his feet and walked up to the stage. The black-haired girl threw him the microphone, and he vaulted onto the stage.

"What song are you singing?" the girl asked.

"Ummm… do you have the song 'Shadow Games'? It's an old favourite." said Malik.

"Of course we have it! What's your name, mate?" said the girl, with a faint Australian accent.

"Malik, Malik Ishtar."

"Ok!" the girl yelled to the crowd. "Here's Malik Ishtar, singin' 'Shadow Games' for us!"

the music started, the soft piano solo echoing around the silent room. Then the bass beat began, and Malik started singing. His voice was soft and haunting, singing melodiously.

"Long ago, in the ancient past,

I remember a life when we first met,

In a dark shadow realm under a big full moon,

There and then I could tell,

You'd try and break my will."

Malik's voice rose for the chorus, the words hanging in the thick air.

"So now watch as I rise to a whole new height,

And our mad battle cry will be heard all night!

You keep on playing,

Those dark shadow games, and

No, I won't be beat again,

You keep on playing,

Those dark shadow games and,

Oh, this time I'll claim my fame."

Malik's voice fell for the second verse, the chorus still lingering on the air.

"So now you know, after time has passed,

You can never be sure, you're always the best,

'Cause I'm back from the shadows coming after you,

On the brightest day, of your darkest hour."

Malik, thought about what had happened so far in his life, all the sadness, anger and fear, and sung as strongly as possible. The chorus echoed around the room, and the music dropped, quiet and steady for the bridge.

"You destroyed the future with your past,

Forgot the lessons of the text,

You never understood the blessed,

Too bad today will be your… last!"

With complete confidence in himself, Malik sung the last chorus loudly, fading out at the end of the song. The crowd burst into raucous applause, and Malik bowed. The hostess jumped back on the stage.

"Wow, that was amazing, Malik! I think we may have a winner! Anyone else?" she yelled to the crowd. Bakura climbed onto the stage, and the girl introduced him. Then he began singing an old favourite, 'Breaking the Habit', and the crowd went wild. In the confusion, Malik slipped out a side door and into the alley beside the club.

He walked along it, kicking a stone along, his head down. He heard the noise from the busy street, and went the opposite way, heading towards his apartment block. Man, he had a splitting headache, and the noise from the club wasn't helping. He wandered along the narrow lane, hands in his pockets, and started humming a song his older sister had taught him. It was Egyptian, with a sweet melody. The tanned boy smiled at old memories, lost in his thoughts.

He was completely shocked when he ran into something warm and solid.

Looking up, his strange violet eyes wide in surprise, he noticed a tall stranger, clad in leather and denim, staring down at him.

"Little squirt like you shouldn't be hanging down here at night." The stranger said. His face was hidden under a bandana, but his cold eyes were roving over the young Egyptian. Malik was painfully aware of all the gold jewellery he was wearing; earrings, arm- and wrist-bands, necklaces and the gold chains on the front of his black shirt. If the man was a thief, he'd found a perfect victim.

While Malik was staring at the stranger, two more guys, dressed in similar styles, crept up behind him. One of them unwound a length of cord from his belt, and the other pulled out a switchblade.

Quick as a striking cobra, the guy with the rope swung a knotted end at the back of Malik's head. The blonde fell forward with a stunned cry, right into the arms of the tall stranger. The cord was bound around his wrists and the switchblade was against his throat, all in the space of five seconds.

"Don't make a sound, twerp." growled the man with the knife, putting slight pressure on the steel blade. Malik paled as the cold metal bit into his skin, and a few drops of crimson blood trickled from the cut. The man laughed softly; it sounded like a guttural snarl.

The first stranger began searching through Malik's pockets. In the side pocket of his jacket, the man found a battered leather wallet, with stains on the surface. He opened it, thumbing through the many notes inside. Satisfied, he shoved the wallet into his own pocket. From one of the pockets in his tan cargo pants, there was a delicate golden bracelet, with the Egyptian symbol of protection hanging from it. That was added to the loot. Inwardly, Malik fumed. That bracelet was a gift from his sister!

The knife at his throat dug deeper, drawing more blood. Malik held back a moan of pain.

The man with the blade laughed, as the leader unclasped Malik's golden arm bands, stowing them in another pocket. Then his gold wristbands were taken, as well as the two necklaces. One had the hieroglyphics spelling his name, and the other was a thick chain-link band. The tanned Egyptian shut his eyes as the thief tore the golden chains off his shirt, tearing the thick material. Then his eyes snapped open, as he sensed the blade at his neck dig deeper under the skin. Warm blood trickled down his neck, soaking into his torn shirt.

"He's got nothin' else on 'im, Raphael," said one of the smaller lackeys, gesturing towards Malik. The other man pulled the switchblade away from Malik's throat, leaving a trail of blood down the silver blade. Malik fell to his knees, relived that the thieves hadn't slit his throat, yet, at least.

"Okay, Ryouta, get rid of the brat." said Raphael, smirking at the injured Egyptian. The one wielding the blade, Ryouta, grinned. He dragged Malik to his feet and held up the bloodstained knife. Grinning like a madman, he plunged the blade up to its hilt, into Malik's chest.

The scene in front of the blonde Egyptian went hazy and dark before his eyes, and the violet orbs dimmed. His eyes closed as he felt his life ebb away. The last thing he heard was the sound of deranged laughter echoing down the alley. Then everything went black.

∞

The karaoke contest was over, and Bakura was becoming restless. Malik was nowhere to be found, and no-one knew where he had gone. The white-haired teen saw a half-open back exit, and he darted outside. For some reason, he was becoming pretty popular around here. There was a deserted alleyway stretching across to one side, and the busy street on the other. Bakura took off down the alley.

After a few minutes running, a familiar scent invaded Bakura's senses: blood. Bakura skidded to a halt and looked around wildly. He noticed a pale patch, gold against the dark stone of the ground. Running towards it, he stifled a yell.

Malik lay on his side in a small pool of blood, which had stained his hair and clothes. All his jewellery was gone, and his shirt was torn. Bakura fell to his knees beside his friend, and checked for a pulse. It was faint, but there. Barely. The white-haired boy wiped tears off his own pale face as he noticed the hilt of the knife sticking out of Malik's chest. The blade was buried deep, and blood still seeped from the wound. There was a shallow cut on Malik's neck, but it had stopped bleeding. Bakura tugged the blade out of Malik's chest, and then turned at the sound of footsteps behind him.

One of the girls from the club was standing there, her expression shocked. She let out a scream.

"No, wait, it's not what it looks like!" shouted Bakura, in a vain attempt to save his friend. The girl pulled out a cell-phone and dialled a number. Only three digits. Bakura swore and took off down the alley, dropping the knife in the gutter. He wouldn't be seen as innocent around here, that much he knew. Malik and he already had a criminal record, for stealing some money from a shop. Assault was even worse. He kept running, tears of anger and grief pouring down his face. Eventually he stopped, panting for breath. Looking around, he recognized the area, somewhere near his house. Walking softly over to the door, he opened it, walking inside and collapsing on the couch. He fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

∞

A few months later, Bakura got slowly out of bed. The whole ordeal was finally over, after Malik was healed. He had told the police the truth about the attack, and a description of the men who robbed him. He was well on the way to full recovery, with only a scar to remind him of the incident.

Pulling on a pair of jeans and a striped shirt, Bakura locked up the house and left for the Ishtar residence. He opened the garage and wheeled out a black motorcycle, revving it and riding away down the quiet street. More than one sleepy neighbour was woken up that morning.

When Bakura arrived at Malik's apartment, he knocked on the door. Shortly, Malik's older sister, Isis, answered the door.

"Bakura, it's you!" she said, opening it wider so he could come in. "Malik was about to call. For some reason, he was worried about you."

"Sis? Who is it?" called Malik from the lounge. The sound of the TV was extremely loud.

"I'd tell you if you turned the volume down for once!" Isis yelled back.

"Fine!" Malik yelled. Bakura grinned.

"Hey, Malik, it's me, Bakura!" he yelled as well. Seconds later Malik appeared in the hall, TV remote in his hand.

"Hey Bakura! How are things goin'?"

"Fine. My dad went on _another _trip to Egypt, so I'm home alone for another week. You wanna come over?"

"Sure, why the hell not?" replied Malik. "Isis is cleaning the house, so it's either stay here and help, or go to your house. I wonder which is better." He added sarcastically.

"Not much of a choice, is it."

"Oh well." said Isis. "Go, be happy, brother. I'll clean up. I'm sure your room is the only one that's _that _messy."

"Thanks sis!" yelled Malik, racing to his room to pack an overnight bag.

"Don't forget the remote, bakamono!" yelled Isis after him.

_Owari_

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Okay, remember, review and tell me what you think. I'm only waiting for a week, so hurry up and feed a starving autheress!

Ryou: I knew the other me and his other self shouldn't have put sugar in her coffee... sigh...


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